


Pray

by StanfouQueen



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StanfouQueen/pseuds/StanfouQueen
Summary: Olivia causes Rafael to do something he hasn't done in years: pray. Post-Know It All two-shot.





	Pray

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I know it's been a while since my last fic. Sorry about that! Life has been hectic. I hope you enjoy this.

It had been years since Rafael Barba prayed, and that instance was etched into his memory. With Olivia missing, probably dead or about to be killed, he'd found an empty church and dropped to his knees. Pleaded for her to be saved. He'd probably cried too, though he wasn't sure he'd admit that to himself.

But, then Olivia had been okay. And he hadn't prayed again. Even when his mother and abuelita tried to coax him back to church, he'd refrained.

Until now.

And what was he praying for?

Her, again.

He wasn't praying for his job. (Well, he was, but only as a means to an end.)

It wasn't his job he wanted; he wanted to stay with her.

"We might have worked our last case together," he'd told her, fighting not to cry. The thought of not having Olivia's friendship to lighten his days made his heart ache.

And the same was happening now as he kept contemplating a future without Olivia's partnership.

The thought stung even more painfully than the knowledge that he would be a disgraced lawyer, possibly disbarred. What would he be able to do the rest of his life? If he was lucky he'd be arguing over speeding tickets, and if he wasn't…

And that was the thought that had him on his knees again, head bowed, lips mouthing a silent prayer. He didn't care about money anymore, he didn't care about Alex Muñoz or his political future. (Except, he told himself, he did. Just not as much, anymore. Not compared to this.)

"Look," he breathed, looking skyward. "Look. You took abuelita. And my dad, you took him years before you even actually took him. And that's fine. But don't you think I should be able to keep this one thing? She's…"

He trailed off then, and his throat began to tighten, his eyes burning.

"I think she's…"

And again.

"I can't… I need…"

Tears began to fall, sliding off his face and landing on the floor below him.

"Her. Please. I need her." He grasped his crucifix in shaky hands. "Please. I don't beg, but I am now. Please. She- she's… I'm different now, because of her. I care now. I _feel_ now. I can't… I can't do this without her. Please."

Trying to slow his tears, he closed his eyes, trapping the drops behind his eyelids. It was true. He was different, softer and caring and even… kind.

He almost hated her for it. In fact, there was a time when he truly had. Before…

Before.

Sometime around when his mother had started giving him those looks when he talked about work, sometime around when he realized instead of talking about _that_ he was talking about _her._ When talking to his mother about his day made her laugh and smirk instead of bringing deep sorrow to her eyes. Sometime around when Olivia had met Lucia herself, and Lucia had told her, "you drive him a little crazy." And she'd been right, damn her.

(All the women in his life drove him a little crazy, really, but none quite like Olivia.)

He let out a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes. While they weren't dry yet, he could feel the tears nearing their end.

"Please," he whispered again. "I don't need this job. I want it, but I don't need it. Not like I need her. That… she's… she's all I want right now."

Nothing but silence answered him. The same silence he'd gotten when he'd begged his father to stop his own drug habit-

He shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. No use opening up old wounds, not when he had fresh ones to nurse. With a soft grunt he pushed himself upright, ready to return to the bitter truths he would have to reveal.

—

The next morning, he prayed again. But this time it wasn't in any church. It was the office of the District Attorney.

"Please," he silently screamed, letting one hand rest on the crucifix hidden by his suit.

What did it say, he wondered, that he was more terrified now than he had been when Felipe Heredio had threatened him with death? He hadn't prayed then. He'd been afraid, but not terrified like he was now.

But he couldn't think about that now, because this could be it, it could be the end of all he'd worked so hard for. (And he didn't mean his chances of a promotion.)

He got through the meeting with no grace, just pure desperation. Answers were barely stuttered out, with no remorse but much apprehension. How would he tell Olivia this was it? What would she say when she came into his office to find him packing up? He couldn't do to her what her old partners had done. Even though Amaro still talked to her, the fact remained that he was gone, just like everyone else in her life.

In his life. In their lives. Everyone except each other.

Except each other, he thought again, because his boss's words had just sunk in nearly a minute after the fact. Together. Him and her. Barba and Benson. Because he was staying. He'd be suspended, of course, but then…

Then they'd be doing what they always did. Squabbling and talking and drinking and walking _just close enough_ that he could swear their arms would touch and he wouldn't know where she ended and he began.

A breath escaped him, feeling less like an exhalation and more like the world being removed from his shoulders. Suddenly he felt dizzy, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He blinked again and again, until he managed to gasp out a thanks and scramble from his chair.

Together. They'd stay together, just like they were supposed to.

—

"When will you be back?" Olivia asked, voice remarkably calm.

Somehow, the question rendered Rafael speechless. And then the fact that he had been rendered speechless stunned him anew.

"I didn't tell you what the D.A. said. You don't know that I'm coming back." Rafael's tone was neutral as he straightened a stack of papers he planned on leaving for the A.D.A. who would be temporarily assigned to his cases.

"If you weren't, you wouldn't be able to look me in the eye," Olivia reasoned simply. And she was right.

Rafael pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. Opening his eyes, he said, "a month," and then shook his head to clear it. "You drive me a little crazy," he muttered.

"Crazy?" Olivia echoed, tilting her head. The wording was clearly jogging a memory, and once she recalled the source, she smiled. "Isn't that my job?"

"You know me," Rafael said, ignoring her. Olivia was looking at him like all his deepest secrets were written on his skin, like she knew everything there was to know about him. And he thought that maybe she did. "I shouldn't be okay with… with you knowing me. Not after this."

Olivia just smiled. "That's what trust is."

"Trust," Rafael echoed with a sigh, nodding. "I know. But it feels strange."

"I know. It doesn't come easily for me either, except for you," Olivia said, and Rafael's heart ached.

He went quiet then, turning away from Olivia, knowing his next words would be too painful to say to her face. He pulled back the curtains from the window and gazed at the city, the sunlight reflecting from the windows. Normally he hated the glare, but not today. "I want to say, Liv, that I feel the same. But… sometimes I don't think I know what the word really means."

"I've been there, Rafael… I lived that," Olivia said quietly. "It takes work and time and-"

Rafael waved her off. "I know. I just don't have that time," he said.

"You do now." Olivia's voice was firm. "And you have to use it. You think I don't know what burnout looks like? You keep going like this, Barba, and you'll-"

Her voice trembled now. "You'll…" And then she fell silent.

 _Is she about to cry?_ The incredulous thought crossed Rafael's mind. He might not have thought it, had he not spent so much of the last day on the verge of tears from this same situation.

And now Rafael was praying again. _Don't let her cry…_ He could handle so many things, as the last day had just shown, but he was not sure Olivia Benson crying was one of them.

But he must have used up all his prayers, because that was exactly what she began to do. Feeling helpless, Rafael whispered, "Liv… it's okay. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." His hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I worry about you," she admitted, voice cracked. "I've seen it happen to so many ADAs."

"Liv," he said, finding that her moment of weakness gave him strength he didn't know he had (and wasn't that always how she made him feel? Stronger than he thought possible), "I won't let that happen. If it… if it gets bad, I'll…" But then he trailed off, not knowing what exactly he _would_ do in that case.

"But," he said, squeezing tighter, "I need you to promise the same. Because I can see it in you too. I know this is your life, Liv, but you deserve to be happy. And I know the job doesn't always do that for you."

"I'm not the one you need to worry about right now, Rafael," Olivia told him with a sad smile.

Shaking his head, Rafael replied, "but I still do worry about you. Always."

Olivia inhaled, looking over at Rafael. She raised her hand to her shoulder, setting it on top of Rafael's and stroking the back with one finger.

Unable to believe what Olivia was doing, Rafael sucked in a breath, letting the air fall still. He blinked slowly, soaking in the warmth of her touch, small as it was.

"Olivia." His throat was dry, suddenly, but it wasn't unpleasant. He swallowed, and repeated her name, softly, with a gentleness he rarely showed.

"Rafael." Olivia smiled at him, and then, just as suddenly as the touch had begun, it ended.

And once again, Rafael found himself praying. But for what, he wasn't entirely sure.

—

Rafael was leaning his elbows on the bar, using one hand to prop up his forehead. Blinking to fight off sleep, he pushed his scotch back and closed his eyes.

Two weeks into his 'break' and he was more exhausted than he thought possible. It was as though every moment of stress he had ever felt had come back tenfold, draining him thoroughly.

Senses dulled by his fatigue, he didn't notice the presence of another person beside him until they made a noise to get his attention. It startled him, and he gasped before realizing it was Olivia next to him.

"Sorry," he managed. "I just- ever since last year-"

"I know," Olivia soothed, and she waited patiently for him to calm down.

"What brings you here?" Rafael asked once his heart had returned to its normal pace.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," Olivia said softly.

"I'm okay," Rafael said, sighing. "Just a bit tired."

"I can tell," Olivia said, settling in the seat next to him. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Sighing again, Rafael shook his head. "I don't have anything to say."

"Should I take your temperature?" Olivia asked, raising her eyebrows. "I've never seen you quiet before."

With a soft and quick chuckle, Rafael turned his attention to his drink, taking a sip of scotch. He let out a breath and murmured, "I'm just nervous."

Rafael was immediately grateful when Olivia didn't ask for more details. She just nodded thoughtfully before catching the bartender's eye and requesting a glass of cabernet.

Fiddling with the glass in his hands, Rafael finally muttered, "Liv, what if… am I ever going to be able to do what I've been dreaming of?"

"What do you mean?" Olivia's voice was calm, but kind. Rafael closed his eyes, allowing himself to just enjoy the comforting sound of her voice.

"I mean," he said, eyes still closed for the moment, "that there are a lot of things I've lost my chance for ever doing."

Tilting her head, Olivia queried, "like what?"

He let out a sigh, once again closing his eyes as the fatigue kept building. "Becoming a judge. Advancing to anything beyond an A.D.A., even. Finding som- finding happiness."

He would always be happy on some level as long as he had her. He knew that. Knew she would always be a source of stability and warmth. But what-ifs kept running through his mind. What if he had to leave the D.A.'s office anyway? What if she left? Where would his life be then?

"Oh, Rafael," Olivia murmured, resting a hand on Rafael's shoulder and gently squeezing. "If there's one thing I've learned in the last few years, it's that it's never too late to find your happiness." Her voice showed the joy motherhood had given her.

"I think it's too late for my career, Liv," Rafael said wearily. "I think I've just done an Amaro."

"It's not too late for other kinds of happiness," Olivia pointed out. "There are a lot of kinds."

"I guess that's true," Rafael said, looking down at his drink. "If I'm still squabbling with you, that's one kind of happiness, right?" He laughed weakly.

"What would we do without that?" Olivia agreed, eyes bright. Rafael's heart clenched as he found himself overwhelmed with emotion. He ached to embrace her. To kiss her.

And yet again, he found himself praying. This time, he begged for courage.

"Olivia…"

His heart began to pound.

"Maybe…" He took a breath, trying to calm himself. "I think, maybe, that you might be able to… to help me find happiness." As soon as he said the words, he hid his face in his drink, nervous in a way only the woman who drove him crazy could make him feel.

"How? I'll certainly try to help," Olivia said softly.

_Lord, please…_

His unspoken prayer became a lot simpler as he forced himself to look Olivia in the eye.

_Please don't let me fuck this up._

"Tell me you feel about me the way I feel about you."


End file.
